I’m up early, making the stew and buns and getting lunch ready before church. Friends are coming. Good friends with the six children, and I’ve kept it a surprise for the boys.

We walk into church and into the surprise and we all squish into one row. And after, when the visiting is over, we come back home. To stew and fresh buns and the kitchen table conversation.

We remember the past and we laugh and its such a sweet time. The men share hunting stories and the women share everything and the children play, and it’s very good.

On a Sunday, home is for visiting.

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